


The Exception

by robotfvckers



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, NSFW Art, Oral Sex, Rutting, Young Genji Shimada, it's fucky ok, more like faceplate rubbing lmaO, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 05:16:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12857556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotfvckers/pseuds/robotfvckers
Summary: A few months ago, he would’ve gloated. Preened like a cat, reclined while he gave them what they craved. This time is different.





	The Exception

**Author's Note:**

> Based on art by [gay-cyber-ninja](http://gay-cyber-ninja.tumblr.com/post/167959247350/so-i-got-commissioned-warnings-none-except) on tumblr.

****A few months ago, he would’ve gloated. Preened like a cat, reclined while the pretty thing between his thighs worked his cock until his toes curled and he gave them what they craved. Hell, he had done it before, raver and saint alike crawled on their knees for him, flirted and pleaded and paid, and Genji had given it, when it pleased him. When they had proven useful or interesting enough to let them have a taste.

This time is different.

Rarely did Genji find himself bedding a synthetic, and certainly not one without compatible parts, no sweet silicone tongue or warm, suckling throat to warm his cock. This one did not beg. This one did not ask, though he can see how he yearns, in his quiet way, array brightening, the endless hum of his machinations purring in the near silence. His hands rest on top of each thigh as if knelt for a lesson, and in a way, he is, and Genji’s cock twitches, a hot, swollen line against his stomach, held in place by his high end boxer briefs, dampened with pre.

He’s _excited_ , and doesn’t that feel so strange? He made his partners do everything, work him into tumescence, slow and easy, the only rush their own insistence.

This one had bewitched him. At first glance, he was little more than a pretty machine, clad in the fine fabrics of his peers, but more slovenly, scraped and scarred, energetic but tapered with a deep serenity. Their dance had been slow, his advances refuted so effortlessly Genji did not know he had been rejected until he was waving goodbye, smiling as the omnic departed. Zenyatta was much too clever, and mischievous in a way that went against everything Genji had known about his order. A rebel, but kind, defending the helpless with orbs and kicks while the others preached and meditated.

It shakes Genji, to have this very same being staring up at him, attentive, curious, head tilting minutely to the side. _Heated_.

Genji does not recline, does not close his eyes. He cranes forward in his chair, fumbling, tugging his swollen cock between the opening of his boxers, worrying his lip, groan rumbling in his throat.

“You are certain? What you intend is quite...perverse.” And the omnic’s voice lowers on the last, capricious and warm, like he understands Genji so thoroughly, an intimate joke shared between them.

Genji cups the back of Zenyatta’s head, fingers weaving between the delicate ports where his spinal wires spider down his back, sensitive, he knows with how the omnic huffs with surprise. His grin is absolutely sinful as he drags Zenyatta forward, bumping his faceplate flat against his cock.

“Is it?” Genji murmurs, breathless, bites his tongue when he grinds once, pre beading onto Zenyatta’s faceplate.

It’s warm, warmer than it should be, and smooth, a near frictionless glide with his sweat and slick, a teasing, indescribable, addicting sensation. Even moreso intoxicating when Zenyatta’s array blooms, hotter than the rest of him, his synth glitching, staring, _recording_ , Genji hopes, grins at the thought that this monk might review it later, tease his wires with the footage of him rutting against his faceplate.

“Using my faceplate for nefarious purpose…” Zenyatta stumbles, whirring as Genji grabs the base of his cock, slipping it over his array, pressing harder, smearing pre over each flickering light. “Abusing its intended function...”

Zenyatta’s hands flex against the fabric of his pants, another subtle give. His quirks are so expressive, and Genji drinks in each like a desert wanderer.

There is no rhythm to Genji’s motions, too frazzled, worked into a frenzy as Zenyatta kneels, mostly unmoving, holding himself still as the young lord groans and swears, thrusting haphazardly. He tells himself it’s just been a few weeks since he last got off, ignoring that the reason for his dry spell is the omnic himself, how he ached to make such a mess of him he held off, needing to mark him, claim him, _ruin_ him. He flushes, warm like the sweet cotton cradle of a few strong drinks, like a good hit of the latest synthetic, dizzying and dream-like. He drags his cock through the slickened lines of his pre, the sound wet and thick, louder than his bitten off moans and near whimpers, so close already.

He slows, exhaling in a harsh gasp, sliding in long, rolling motions, the tight swell of his balls catching against his paneling along with his swollen, leaking cockhead. His fingers tuck and swivel around the base of the omnic’s head, teasing small, hot chitters from him.

“Having fun?” Genji bites after a punctuated thrust, unable to stay his hips for long, not when he can feel his orgasm swell in the base of his spine, the need to mess Zenyatta up battering between his ears. “I think you are.” He wiggles his fingers around the base of his wires, and the monk moans in deep staccato chimes, going so easily as Genji urges him forward, meeting each rut, smashing his cock so it follows the curve of his head, dribbling down each fogged, glistening panel.

“Mmm— _fuck_ —!!” It takes no more than a few thrusts just like this, hard and eager, nearly painful, before the first hot, thick spurt lands on Zenyatta’s array, the light of it dispersing through the opaque spend. After the second rope catches, Genji grabs the base of his cock, greedy, milking the rest in eager, hard pulls, flushing harder when it keeps coming, a fourth, fifth, obfuscating most of his array, dripping down his gold chrome in lazy rivulets.

The omnic trembles through it, immobilized, intoxicated by the vice grip at his wires, hot little pops of feedback as they nearly unplug, by the way Genji flushes from ears to shoulders, eyes so dark and drunk Zenyatta worries. Genji pants, body shaking with it, crawling back from the brink that refuses to let him go. He thrusts a few times more, smearing the mess around Zenyatta’s array as the omnic moans, quiet and awed, soft in a way that makes Genji’s cock ache all over again.

Slowly, like a dream, Zenyatta lifts one hand, and Genji recedes so the omnic can gingerly touch his array. Metal on metal cannot disperse the thick mess he’s left, only smears it further. A chirp bubbles from his synth.

“Genji.” His voice is almost too quiet.

“Yeah?”

“I...I cannot see.”

Genji barks, finally releasing his grip on the omnic’s head, noting the way his shoulders quake when he retreats. He smears his thumb over the clouded array, his mess never cooling, Zenyatta is too warm still, tempting Genji to continue. Instead, he grabs the edge of his bedding, swiping messily but with care, stomach tingling when it doesn’t quite clean him, but Zenyatta nuzzles into his hand regardless, thankful.

Genji's grin returns, eyes half-mast and teasing. “Your turn.”

**Author's Note:**

> For more content and rambling, I'm on [tumblr](https://robotfvckers.tumblr.com/).


End file.
